Edge of Sanity
by KESwriter
Summary: Connor Jameson is the newest doctor at a private psychiatric hospital where Spencer Reid is a patient with schizophrenia. Uncomfortable with the diagnosis, Jameson digs deeper and discovers that Reid might have an enemy closer than anyone could have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

I know there are at least two active stories that at first glance, are similar to this one. I promise this one is different and I'm excited about it! I don't write male protagonists often and this should be fun. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Connor Jamison is the newest doctor at a private psychiatric hospital where Spencer Reid is a patient with schizophrenia. Uncomfortable with the diagnosis, Jamison digs deeper and discovers that Reid might have an enemy closer than anyone could have imagined.

Edge of Sanity

The Longview Mental Health Hospital was a private institute on the of edge of one of the wealthier sections of Washington DC. It more closely resembled a four-star hotel than a long-term care facility. It was the kind of place Dr. Connor Jameson looked forward to settling into.

Transferring from a similarly prestigious hospital in New York City, Jamison was moving back home to DC to be closer to his twin sister Nadine. She recently lost her husband who was serving oversees in Afghanistan and was now left to raise her own set of ten-year-old twins. Since their parents died a couple years ago and with no other close relatives in the area, he was happy to move home. Jameson had divorced his wife of ten years less than three months ago due to irreconcilable differences. Their daughter Hailey died of brain cancer when she was seven and they never really got over it. At the age of forty, Jameson was looking forward to the change and building a new life where he grew up.

The receptionist who greeted him at the polished hand-carved desk looked like a model.

"You're Dr. Jameson," she said. "I'll inform Director Korf."

She sent a message on an expensive looking Mac and another woman who looked like a model appeared in high heels.

"I'm Selina," she said. "I'll take you to Director Korf."

"Thank you," he said.

They walked by well-tended plants, high quality prints of paintings along with what looked like a few originals. The colors were muted, but in a stylish way that didn't scream "institution." Jameson was impressed by what he saw.

After walking by another secretary who could work for a modeling agency, Jameson met Director Mitch Korf. Slightly balding in his mid-fifties, Korf was dressed in a sharp Armani suit. His smile was broad, and he presented a friendly persona.

"Dr. Jameson," he said. "Come on in."

They shook hands and sat down.

"Welcome to LMHH as we like to call the place around here," he said. "How was your trip in from New York?"

"Uneventful," he said. "I look forward to starting work here."

"Great," he said. "In your office you'll find your patient list on your computer along with a schedule. Your secretary's name is Leah and she'll be there to meet your every need within reason."

"Excellent," Jameson said.

"This is a pretty lateral move for you," Korf said. "Working at the Schultz Institute and then coming here."

"That was completely intentional," Jameson said with a smile. "You're in same tier of rankings for the best mental health facilities in the US."

"Your credentials are pretty impressive too," he said. "Harvard Medical school, Harvard undergrad on scholarship."

"Thank you," he said.

"I'll message Leah to come over to give you a tour," he said playing with his phone. "There is a staff meeting at ten, take the time before then to get familiar with the facilities."

"Great," Jameson said standing up.

"I think you're going to be a terrific addition, here," Korf said standing up also.

There was a knock on the door and another secretary/modeling agency worker appeared.

"Leah!" Korf said. "This is Dr. Jameson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Doctor," she said.

"Likewise," she said with a broad smile. "Let's go for a tour."

"Sound's great," he said.

"Have fun," Korf said. "I'll see you around."

…

An Olympic-sized swimming pool, state-of-the-art gym, a game room with high-tech toys, and a dining room with chandeliers were just some of the features of LMHH. Jamison had read up on the facilities, but it felt surreal to actually see how high-end the institute was.

Jameson whistled as he entered his office. It was larger than his last one and had a flat screen TV in the corner.

"There's a catalog of furnishings on your desk," Leah said. "Pick out whatever you like."

"Thank you," he said taking a seat behind his desk. "When I start seeing patients?"

"This afternoon," she said. "Your full schedule begins next week."

"Great," he said. "I'll message you if I need anything."

"I look forward to assisting you in whatever way I can," she said and left.

Jameson began to review his patient list. A "Spencer Reid" stood out as a patient admitted six months ago who tried to commit suicide two months ago. Diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, he presented the typical signs, which included hearing voices, delusions, and a feeling of someone watching him. The age was a little surprising as symptoms usually appeared earlier. Of all his patients, Jameson was the most interested in meeting Spencer Reid.

…

The place may resemble a luxury hotel, but it was still a mental health facility. Lots of paperwork, consulting with other doctors, and meeting with the staff was all par for the course. It felt good to do some actual doctor-related work.

After meeting with a mild-mannered young woman with disorganized schizophrenia, he met with Spencer Reid. He was dressed in some gray t-shirt and gray sweatpants. The t-shirt showed the bandages on his wrists from the suicide attempt.

"Spencer Reid," he said and waved as he read the man was germophobic. "I'm Dr. Connor Jameson. No relation to whiskey brewery, unfortunately."

"John Jameson was a Scottish businessman who managed the Stein family Bow Street distillery in seventeen eighty-six," he said in a low flat tone without making eye contact. "He is also the great grandfather of Guglielmo Marconi."

"Fascinating," he said brightly, "Have a seat."

"What happened to Dr. Bowman?" Reid asked staring at the floor.

"Remember, he explained that he was retiring," he said.

"I thought he'd come to see me though," he said sadly.

Delusion of self-importance. It wasn't uncommon with paranoid schizophrenics.

"Dr. Bowman sends his best," he said. "I'll do my best to treat you to the best of my abilities."

He looked at Jameson briefly.

"You're forty years old, aren't you?"

"You're good," Jameson said brightly.

"I'll be forty in five hundred eighty-four days," he said sadly. "I used to be someone. I used to work for the FBI. Now I'm here, like my mom."

"You still are someone Spencer," Jameson said with determination. "You are still capable of great things and have a wonderful support network. If my age is a problem, you can switch to another doctor."

"No," he said shaking his head vigorously. Jameson noticed a lock was missing in the back of his scalp. "No, you'll due."

"Okay," he said. "I look forward to getting to know you."

"Until you retire and get sick of seeing me too," he said darkly.

"That won't happen any time soon," he said.

"But you will," he said. "You all get to leave while I'm still stuck in here."

"Anything can happen in the next decades," Jameson said. "You need to try to stay positive."

"You try staying positive while stuck in here."

Jameson sighed mentally. For all the amenities, model executive assistants, and high-end finishes, this was still viewed as a prison to some patients and Longview Mental Health Hospital. It was Jameson's job to try to convince them otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter Two:

His sister Nadine lived in a modest house in a middle-class neighborhood in DC. She was unloading groceries when he arrived.

"Hey sis," he said casually and grabbed some bags.

"Hey Doc," she said sweetly as her pet name for him since he graduated from med school.

"Where are the kids?" he asked as they walked in.

"Elly is at soccer practice and Chris is at a birthday party," she said. "I have another hour to myself."

They put groceries away in companionable silence. Nadine then poured two glasses of water and they sat down at the kitchen table.

"A little early for beer, so water will have to do," she said. "So, how's the new job?"

"The place looks more like the Ritz than a hospital, but the patients are the same," he said.

"Did one get under your skin?" she asked.

He stared at her.

"Was it that obvious?" he asked.

"Only to someone whose known you her whole life," Nadine said with a smile. "What can you tell me about him or her without breaking confidentiality?"

"He vaguely reminds me of A Beautiful Mind," he said.

"That movie you once made me watch to point out every medical inaccuracy?" she said.

"He reminds me of what happens when the potential of extraordinary achievement is lost," he said sadly. "It's still possible, but not at the same success level."

"Can you get him into any drug trials?" she asked.

"There haven't been many major developments recently," Jameson said.

"Well, you're there to improve his quality of life," Nadine said. "You're a good doctor and you'll help him. I'm sure of it."

"You're always good for a pep talk sis," he said. "Thanks."

"Your welcome," she said.

"Now what about you?" he asked. "How are DC's finest treating you?"

"Life as a homicide detective is what it is," she said. "Law and Order makes my job look easy."

"Now that I'm back in town, I'm happy to be a free babysitter," he said. "I'm here to help."

"I may end up taking you up on that offer sooner rather than later," she said. "Something nasty is going down and I think I'm going to be pulling a few doubles soon."

"Anything you can tell me about?" he asked.

"Remember when I applied for the FBI and I took those profiling courses?"

"Yeah that was roughly two years ago," he said. "What about it?"

"A couple deaths that were initially OD's appear to be something more insidious and that is saying something," she said and groaned. "I swear the Feds are going to be invading my space the next time I show up for work."

"Why do you dislike them if you once wanted to be one?" he asked.

Nadine gave him a look.

"I'd be a different kind of Fed, one who doesn't question why the I's and t's aren't crossed on every piece of paperwork," she said.

"But you have better penmanship then me," he said.

She gave him an uglier look.

"You try working under the microscope of the Behavioral Analysis Unit as they interview suspects and witnesses with you," she said. "I hope you know to keep this information to yourself. The last thing we want is a public panic."

"My lips are sealed," he said. The name Behavioral Analysis Unit rang bells from Spencer Reid's employment history. It was a curious connection.

"I better get going," she said standing up, "I wish I could have helped you move, but it is always a little crazy around here."

"I know," he said standing up also. "I look forward to becoming part of the craziness."

Nadine reached over and hugged him.

"Thanks," she said.

"Anytime sis," he said.

…

"They won't let me have access to the news," Reid said when he met him in the morning. "They're afraid it will agitate me."

"But it did, didn't it?" he said. According to the report, the mother of his two godsons had been shot at close range. This put him in a downward spiral that led to his suicide attempt, when he saw it on the news.

"That won't happen again," he said twitching his left foot. "I promise, I just need to stay informed. Informed so I know what to expect."

"I'll see if I can arrange some news stories to be sent to you," Jameson said. "What do you like to read about?'

"Homicide incidents," he said. "I like to know how people were killed."

Jameson knew he had to tread cautiously.

"You're perfectly safe here," Jameson said. "I don't think anyone can harm you here."

"That's not the point," Reid said stubbornly. "I need to know because that is what I needed to know. I found patterns where other people didn't. Did you know there are between twenty-five and fifty serial killers operating at any given time in the US? I need to know about these things."

Reid was at a tipping point. Jameson knew what he said next could send him in a downward spiral if he didn't say the right thing.

"Spencer," he said carefully. "Your job will always be part of who you are. It is what made you special and always will. But you have potential to do so much more than what you are used to doing. I believe you are capable of great things, if you believe in yourself too."

Reid began to violently shake. Jameson reached for the button in his desk.

"I AM NO ONE WITHOUT MY JOB!" he screeched. "NO ONE!"

Jameson reached around his desk just before Reid tried to slam his head into it. Nurses instantly appeared as Reid kept yelling about his job. Jameson was left alone on his knees at they took Spencer away.

Leah's head appeared.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

"I'll be fine," he said getting up. "I just need a few moments to myself."

"Your next patient won't be in for another twenty minutes," she said. "Take any extra time you need."

"Thanks Leah," he said as he took a seat behind his desk.

Leah left, and Jamison massaged his forehead. Sometimes words weren't enough if the thought was already there. It felt like something wasn't adding up about Reid though. None of the standard drugs prescribed for schizophrenia produced a significant favorable effect according to the reports. Some actually made things worse. Given the nature of the disorder, this wasn't entirely unusual. He needed to consult the rest of Reid's treatment team to find a better approach. Meeting Reid's team from the FBI might not be a bad idea either.

To clear his head of Reid, he checked his phone. There was a message from his sister:

"As I predicted, I'm doing doubles. I will need your FREE services tonight."

He texted: "No problem," and then sat back. It was interesting how things ended up connecting at times.


	3. Chapter 3

I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter Three:

Jameson was reading medical texts on his computer late at night in the family room recliner when Nadine came home.

"Hey," he said. "How are the feds?"

She gave him an ugly look.

"They take over our conference room, put up their own maps, and interrupt our interviews!" she raged. "And the captain expects us to roll out the welcome wagon while we try to do our jobs!"

"But other than that, are they nice and helpful?" he asked innocently.

"They're in my way!" she said angrily.

"I hope you're playing nice though," he said.

She plopped on the couch.

"I'm trying," she said. "So many people are breathing down my neck right now. I go to the bathroom to gather my thoughts and I hear two of them having a heart-to-heart girl talk."

"Okay, you have my interest," he said. "What were they heart-to-hearting about?"

"Some coworker who was forced to leave due what sounded like an illness that was harming his brain. They miss his brain and his kindness."

It made perfect sense. There couldn't be that many teams in the BAU, especially with one described as being brainy.

"I know that look Connor," Nadine said. "What incredible revelation did you just have?"

"I really can't say," he said evasively.

"You can't say because their former teammate is one of your patients," she said.

"That is quite a leap sis," he said trying to laugh it off.

"David Rossi is a best-selling author," she said. "His most recent book had a huge display in a bookstore I visited with the kids. Only he could afford to have a friend in your facility."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked. "I can't break confidentiality."

"They kept asking questions out loud like they were expecting someone to have the answer," she said. "One of them would eventually Google it or call up their tech analyst, but there was a sadness that couldn't be avoided. I wondered what that was about."

"Interesting," he said.

"Enough about work," she said. "Did my kids give you a hard time?"

"Nope," he said. "Dinner was served, homework was done, teeth were brushed, and stories were read. Not a complaint to be heard."

She gave him a look.

"They always behave for Uncle Connor," she said.

"I can't help that," he said with a laugh.

Nadine stared at the ceiling.

"Remember how often mom would curse us with the promise that we would have children exactly like us?"

"It was her favorite saying."

"I think she's laughing at us from above," she said.

"They're great kids, Nadine. They're like us in good and bad ways, but mostly good."

She looked over at him.

"You always know what to say," she said. "You were a great dad and can still be one someday."

"Let's focus on you for now," he said. "I packed a bag if you want me to stay over."

"Given the nature of this _unsub,_ I wouldn't be surprised if I get called in early," she said.

"I'm happy to help, Nadine," he said. "I really am."

"Good," she said. "Let's see if your pancake-making skills have improved over the years."

"Deal," he said.

…

Jameson met with Reid's treatment team.

"Since nothing is working in terms of medications, how is he progressing in his other treatments?"

"In group he remains withdrawn," the therapist said. "It's as though he keeps trying to profile the group, and while he'll never admit it, he feels superior to the others."

"How about one-on-one?" Jameson asked.

"He's trying, but he can't focus for more than ten minutes before going into tangents about what he could be doing right now," she said.

"How about art therapy?" he asked.

The therapist brought out a few samples. Jameson examined the picture of the woman. It would have been beautiful if blood wasn't gushing out of the side of her head. Another one was covered bars, and the last one was a cemetery.

"They represent three traumatic moments in his life," the therapist explained. "When his girlfriend was shot in a murder suicide in front of him, when he was incarcerated, and when he was tortured in a shed in a cemetery where he was digging his own grave when his team found him."

Jameson let out a sigh.

"I have been reading all your reports and it is still difficult to get through all of what he has endured. What have his psych evaluations from the BAU shown?"

"Not much," one of the therapists said. "He passed his recertification after his incarceration with flying colors. The only recommendation was that he take thirty days off every one hundred days to reduce stress."

"The other thing is that he does have a drug addiction to narcotics due to being tortured by a man with a dissociative identity disorder in the cemetery."

"I noticed treating the trauma strategy isn't working," Jameson. "So, what is working?"

No one spoke.

"He has a great support network," one therapist offered. "His team from the BAU visits regularly and we are allowed to discuss treatment with them."

Jameson knew there was no point in getting angry about lack of progress, so he pressed on.

"What about family?" he asked. "Has anyone related to him visited?"

"He writes letters to his mother who also had dementia but doesn't want her to see him like this. He wants nothing to do with the father who abandoned him when he was ten. There is an Aunt Ethel he's mentioned, but he doesn't want her to know either."

"Spencer isn't happy here," Jameson said. "I want to change that as soon as possible. At our meeting next week, I want two new ideas for treatment from everyone. I also want to meet every team member who is cooperating in his treatment."

Everyone nodded in agreement. A plan had been made. Now, they had to come up with different treatment strategies together.

…

Jameson had a left a note at the visitation area for Reid's visitors to see him afterwards. A Derek Morgan appeared in his office. Introductions were exchanged and both men sat down.

"So, I have been reading up on his history and you left the BAU about two years ago," he said. "To pursue being a dad full-time. Very noble."

"Thanks," he said. "I also do a little construction work on the side."

"So that's how you stay in shape," Jameson said with a laugh. "I can't get into a rhythm at the gym that I like."

Morgan didn't laugh.

"He doesn't seem happy here," Morgan said. "No matter how many books I give him to make the place feel like home, he still doesn't seem satisfied with his living conditions."

"I noticed that," Jameson. "I have been here less than a whole week and I am working with his therapists to develop new strategies. No mental disorder is easy to treat, but the thing about schizophrenia is that meds don't always work. My next idea involves treating some of the symptoms of depression."

"What do you need from me?"

"I'd like your support in convincing Spencer that this place isn't a luxury prison," Jameson said. "Send the message to everyone in your network. I am not sure yet whether he can function in society, but I am not ready to rule it out completely. This is a process and the more he engages with us the better we can assess his ability to function with the disorder."

"I will Doctor," he said.

Jameson looked at him closely. The man's pulse appeared to be racing and there was slight tremor in his hands.

"Is there anything I should know about you?" he asked.

"No," he said. "Just too much coffee in the morning after my boy kept me all night."

"Understandable," he said assuredly and stood up. "It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Morgan."

"You too Doctor Jameson," he said.

"Have a good day," he said, and Morgan left.

Jameson quickly logged on to his computer and he accessed the surveillance system. He saw Morgan looking even more tense after leaving. Morgan's phone appeared to ring as he picked it up and looked around as he walked out. The conversation looked tense and continued outside the camera's range.

It was hard to say what he was expecting to find when he accessed the cameras. Something seemed "off" about Derek Morgan. He couldn't tell if it was from the stress of seeing his friend so miserable, or something else. At this point, Jameson really didn't know.


	4. Chapter 4

I am really excited about this story! I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Four:

Jameson was half-asleep when Nadine came home just past midnight.

"The back of your head looked good on TV," he said.

She gave him a look and collapsed on the couch.

"It's over, the perp was caught, the hostages were saved, and that is all that matters," she said closing her eyes.

"The paperwork is done too I bet," he said. "I can't believe they made you stay three hours after the takedown."

"The joy of working with the feds," she said. "The brass always wants our paperwork to match theirs even if it is an antiquated format and in triplicate."

"So, are you off tomorrow?" he asked.

"I get the morning off," she said. "After I get the kids up I'm going back to sleep. I'll make meatloaf another day."

"Or I can," he offered.

" _No."_

His phone beeped. It was LMHH. He had asked that they alert him when Spencer had some sort of episode.

"Serious?" Nadine asked.

"We'll see," he said getting up. He quickly hugged her.

"I wish I could stay to make breakfast, so you could sleep in."

She waved him off.

"I'll live. Look after your patient," she said.

"See you later," he said and left.

…

He was in a special room with his ankles and wrists in soft restraints. Reid was in a constant state of motion to the point where the bedframe was vibrating.

Jameson slowly approached him.

"Spencer, do you know who I am?"

"Yes," he said.

"Good," Jameson said.

"You're a bad person," he said. "You want to pump me with drugs I don't want. I don't need."

"Spencer," Jameson said slowly. "Why did you start ripping your books apart?"

"There was no writing in them. No writing at all. I had to find the words. I had to find the words!"

"Spencer," he said. "All your books have words. It was your mind that blocked you from seeing the words."

"My mind is invaluable!" he said. "I have an IQ of one hundred eighty-seven! Nothing is wrong with me!"

Jameson knew now was not a good time try to argue with a patient. In the middle of an episode like this, Reid was in no way responsive to reason. It was time to move on.

He met with the night shift doctor for Reid. Dr. Rudy Wick was an older doctor who had probably seen nearly everything. He had a pleasant demeanor which worked well with the overnight hours.

Wick sighed as they sat down in Jameson's office.

"I wish they'd stop letting his team visit," he said.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Every night after his team visits, he has some sort of episode of mania, disassociation, delusion, or some combination of all three."

Jameson was shocked.

"Why haven't I heard about this before?" he asked. "Where is this in my reports?"

"Have you heard of a David Rossi?"

"Vaguely," he said. "I think I saw the name on some of my sister's books when she was applying for the FBI."

"He is one of the top-selling authors in non-fiction. As a member of Reid's team, he used his influence to get him admitted, which as you know, has a year-long waitlist."

"The guy is rich, but we're richer," Jameson. "Is this guy really dictating Reid's care? He could get him killed!"

"Okay story time," Wick said slapping his hands together. "I saw the trend a month into Reid's care. I wrote a recommendation that Reid's team not be allowed to visit and put it in Bowman's report. A month later nothing had changed as Reid would have episodes after a member of the team visited. Two weeks later I finally spoke with Bowman personally and he said that he got a message from the director himself to allow Reid's team to regularly visit him."

"How does this Rossi guy fit in?"

"Look, I know people generally perceive my job to be that of a babysitter while the 'real' shrinks get their beauty sleep, but I care about these patients just as much as you guys. I confronted Korf with my evidence and threatened to go to the malpractice board and then the police."

Jameson stared at him in disbelief.

"How are you still working here?"

Wick let out a mirthless laugh.

"Korf threatened to fire me and suggested Reid would suffer more if I stepped down as I had developed something of a relationship with him when he is in good condition. I decided to stay on and found out about David Rossi. It took me another month of googling on public computers to find out that Rossi golfed with the chairman of LMHH's board."

Jameson sat back.

"Who else knows about this arrangement?"

"The other therapists don't see the correlation because the team visits three or four times a week. Bowman and I have also been sworn to silence."

"What am I supped to do Dr. Wick?"

"You're younger than Bowman and me, Dr. Jameson," he said. "Reid's situation drove Bowman to an early retirement and I'm about a year away also. You're smarter and I think you might have better resources than I do."

"You're putting a lot faith in me finding a solution," Jameson said.

"I know," he said with determination. "Don't screw it up."

…

Jameson and Nadine watched Elly's soccer game. Chris was playing with some friends not far away. The air was stay cool as they played in the morning.

"How hard is it for you to not scream right now?" he asked.

"She threatened to go home with a family from the visiting team if I yelled her name again. Elly's a girl of her word like her dad. I don't trust her."

Jameson laughed.

Nadine took a sip of her coffee.

"We need to discuss how far you're willing to go for a patient," she said seriously.

"As far as I need to go to get the help my patient needs," he said.

"Even if it involves breaking the law?" she asked.

Jameson had thought about it. Something needed to be done. If someone had to take the fall, it might as well be him.

"Yes," he said. "I'm willing to go all the way."

"I know of a way to get this situation investigated while minimizing risk to you," she said. "There is a highly exclusive private detective agency made up of mostly ex-law enforcement, that operates outside the law when it has to."

"How do I get access to it?" he asked.

"I went to the academy with one of the lead detectives and that will get you in. You will need to fork over a ton of money up front. This is one of the ways they keep it exclusive."

"You know Kendra was the main breadwinner in my family when Hailey wasn't sick, so I have no major financial constraints," he said.

"Make sure he is worth it Connor," Nadine said staring at him. "Because if someone arrests these detectives, they will flip, and you will face jail time."

Jameson watch Elly play for a while.

"Ever since Hailey died I have felt adrift. I thought throwing myself into my work was the solution until Kendra pulled away. I need to do something that matters. I need to save Spencer Reid and maybe I'll find a way to save myself."

Nadine sighed.

"I know a few good lawyers who should be able to get you out before the kids graduate from college."

"Glad you have my back on this sis," he said trying to lighten the mood.

"Someone has to," she said.

Elly came bouncing forward.

"Uncle Connor, you need to come to all my games!" she said enthusiastically. "Mommy doesn't scream at anyone because you keep her distracted."

Nadine gave him a look and he shrugged. He'd need to stay in touch with Nadine regularly to keep from drifting into the darkness that was Spencer Reid's life.


	5. Chapter 5

I've got quite a surprise for the end of this chapter and I hope you like it.

Chapter Five:

After a brunch with a coworker known as J.J. (the same one who had been shot two months ago), Reid spent the night trying to pull his hair out. Jameson consulted the weekend doctor wasn't as forthcoming about theories as to why Reid was agitated after visits from coworkers. He sensed the woman had gotten wind of what happened with Wick and chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

He was forced to agree with the recommendation that Reid's hair be cut. It was an extreme measure, but necessary as it would mean Reid wouldn't be able to further hurt himself. Jameson left clear instructions that the cut look stylish and only as close to the scalp as necessary.

The coworker who visited Reid was not happy to see Jameson on Tuesday. Her name was Emily Prentiss.

"Why'd you cut his hair?" she demanded. "Do you know how dehumanizing that can be?"

"I am well aware of the psychological effects Agent Prentiss," he said calmly. "It was necessary in order for Spencer to be less of a danger to himself while we develop treatment options."

"What have you come up with?" she asked.

"We've decided to dig deeper and treat him with what he might have had before the trauma of working in the FBI. While he was never diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum, we're going to try to have him tested. He also has OCD tendencies and germaphobia. Therapists are going to work on his socializations skills and try using electronic gaming therapy as something different to engage him. It is our hope that this will get him to open up to better assess his ability to cope with schizophrenia."

Prentiss nodded.

"How long before we can see results?" she asked.

"I hoping to see something in about two weeks," he said.

"How can my team and I help?" she asked.

"Stay positive and avoid discussion of your work," he said.

"He is always asking about work," she said. "I don't know how to avoid the subject."

"Agent Prentiss, he is under the impression he needs to be at work when he will never be able to return to the FBI. Get creative and engage in his tangents. Try to stay away from work without him realizing it."

"Okay," she said.

"Is there anything I need to know from you, Agent Prentis?" he asked.

She blinked twice.

"No," she said.

"Okay," he said standing up. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Have a good day, Dr. Jameson," she said.

Like with Morgan, Jameson watched Prentiss leave on the cameras. She didn't look as tense but kept looking over her shoulder. Her phone rang, and she looked positively nervous as she spoke. Before leaving she glanced at the last camera aimed at her. There was fear in her eyes.

Jameson was positively confused. He met with the PIs on Wednesday during his lunch break.

…

The Fenton Spalding Bridges Private Investigation offices were located in the business district of DC. Jameson took the elevator to the third floor and entered an extremely modern office. If he didn't see the company initials he'd have thought, he walked into a magazine publication office.

The woman at the reception desk was dressed in black with a blue scarf.

"How can I help you?"

"I'm Dr. Jameson for an assessment," he said.

The woman looked at her computer.

"Please take a seat," she said. "Dr. Spalding will be with you shortly."

Jameson barely sat down when a woman dressed in a black silk pants suit with a severe bob appeared.

"I'm Dr. Spalding," she said. "Dr. Jameson come with me."

He followed through a door and passed minimalist artwork that looked local. The walls were a cool blue. Spalding opened a door and he entered an office that was mixture of black and white with a black polished desk and white rugs.

"Have a seat," she said.

She took a seat behind her desk and he took a seat in front of it.

"I'm Dr. Sophia Spalding," she said. "I earned a PHD in psychology while working for the CIA. I left seven years ago due reasons that remain classified."

"If you're trying to intimidate me it's kind of working," he said.

"Good," she said. "You were referred to us by Nadine Jameson Mangan. You used a public telephone in the Washington mall to contact us. You're paranoid and you should be because you want to us to investigate why FBI agents are interfering with the treatment of one of your patients, Dr. Spencer Reid."

"That sounds about right," he said.

"Has your sister made you aware of the risks associated with using our services?"

"Yes," he said.

"Good," she said. "Now you strike me as a smart person Dr. Jameson. Do you have any theories as to why the FBI is interfering with your patient's care?"

"Am I allowed to say something outlandish?" he asked.

"There is nothing outlandish about what is happening here."

"Someone is pulling strings on these FBI agents," he said. "They're presence triggers Spencer Reid's episodes and they won't stop visiting him because someone has something on all of them."

"How many agents are his visitation list?" she asked.

"Seven current and one former agent," he said.

Spalding typed something on her computer.

"Any other visitors?" she asked.

"No," he said.

She wrote down a number.

"I assume your sister told you our services aren't cheap," she said. "Can you afford this?"

Jameson looked at the number. It was in the mid-five-figures.

"Yes," he said.

"We take debit, credit, or check," she said.

He handed her a debit card and she scanned it.

"Expect a report from us two weeks from today," she said. "That will be all. I'll show you out."

"Don't you want to ask me anything more?" he said as he stood up.

"It will benefit you more if we came to conclusions on our own," she said.

They walked out of the office and Spalding bid him a good day. He wondered the heck he got himself into.

…

Jackie Fenton addressed the three other women in the room.

"We need to be careful about this one," she said. "It will be our top priority case. I want reports on my desk every day. These are FBI agents who have been stalked before so they're already paranoid, so please exercise an abundance of caution. We are no good to our client if we end up jail."

Elle Greenaway raised her hand slightly.

"Why were you looking at me when you said the last part?"

"We know how close you are this one," Maria Bridges said.

"Which brings up my next point," Fenton said. "Elle, I want you in charge of the investigation, but I don't want you anywhere near Spencer Reid. If you go anywhere near this and Reid sees you, we're done. Do I make myself clear?"

"I want to know why the BAU is hurting Spencer," Greenaway said furiously. "I won't be doing anything to jeopardize them going down for it."

"I have a bad feeling about this case," Spalding said. "This reeks of a much larger conspiracy at play."

"How so?" Fenton asked.

"We have seven people who could be complicit in harming the most physically vulnerable member of their team. What motivates these people could be something much darker than what we are equipped to handle."

"Can we back up?" Bridges said. "How sure are we that the team's presence is harming him?"

"I already hacked the hospital," Fenton said. "The initial recommendations from another doctor were buried but the evidence was still there. Jameson has been doing his compiling based off incident reports and it follows an indisputable pattern. This team's presence is hurting Spencer Reid."

"Schizophrenia is a complicated disease," Bridges said. "How could they be triggering him _every_ time they visit?"

"That's what the research department will help us find out," Fenton said. "Sophia, I want you to call in your friends from the CIA to discuss the psychology of torture."

"Consider it done," she said.

"We have a lot of work to do and results to provide. Let's start planning."


	6. Chapter 6

I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter Six:

The results came in fast. Two detectives came in after entering the homes in the morning. They were spooked.

"What is it?" Greenaway asked when they came into her office.

They pulled out their cameras and showed her what they saw.

"Did you find any cameras in the homes?" she asked.

"I disabled them," she said.

"So, did I," the other said.

"Don't do anything else until after I've spoken with FSB," Greenaway said, referring to the lead detectives. "I'll see you later."

The two detectives nodded in agreement and left.

Greenaway texted Fenton the most damaging photo. She then sat back. Spalding was completely on the money about this. How were they going to rescue Spencer?

…

Fenton called an emergency meeting the middle of the afternoon. She took the photos and blew them up on the projector.

"If the other agents are being terrorized like this," Fenton said. "We're looking at a massive conspiracy."

"I don't like being right," Spalding said.

"So, the detectives found photos of these agents tied up and strategically beaten with a note under each saying worse would happen if they didn't do as instructed," Bridges said.

Spalding looked at the drugs photographed. "No wonder Dr. Reid is being driven to the brink of insanity. When a sane person is prescribed some of these drugs, plus what the hospital is prescribing, they are going to act out."

"How are they getting it in though?" Fenton asked.

"In high concentrations and smashed into a micro-fine power using the crushing tools on display, it can be transmitted through touch, food, and porous materials such as paper."

Greenaway looked angry.

"Someone could threaten to beat me to death and I still wouldn't do this to Reid," she said.

"They might not all be threatened with physical violence," Bridges said. "They might be threatening family members and using blackmail as possibilities."

"Thinking of the bigger picture, who has the resources to pull off something like this?" Fenton asked.

"Aside from reclusive billionaires, no one," Spalding said. "We're looking at a group with a leader."

"This team has been targeted by psychos before," Greenaway said. "How is this different?"

"Because I think this is the first known instance of crowd sourced torture," Spalding said.

"Seriously?" Bridges said.

"There was a paper published in the field of criminal psychology that suggested the technology used to crowdfund positive causes can be used for negative ones."

"So, if I were to Google 'ways to torture the BAU' threatening to physically assault team members to get them to dose another with psychotropic drugs to get him to think he has schizophrenia would show up?" Fenton asked.

"This all probably takes place on the Dark web," Spalding said. "There is a ringleader but finding most likely him will take time."

"What are the risks associated with long term exposure to these drugs?" Greenaway asked.

"Long-term abuse hasn't been studied at length in this category of drugs," she said. "Theoretically, if they stopped dosing him he should return to normal in a matter of days."

"That's the best news I've heard since this ordeal began," Bridges said.

"But we can't stop them from dosing him yet, can we?" Greenaway asked. "We need to find the ringleader."

"The facility he is being held in has sound proof rooms, right?" Fenton asked.

"I've been reviewing surveillance footage," Bridges said. "I think their phones have be jacked so someone is always listening."

"I have schematics for jack-blocking technology," Spalding said.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got them," Fenton said. "How long will it take to implement the technology?"

"It's works like a looping tool," Spalding said. "Every phone just needs to be linked for five seconds with another phone."

"I want a plan for how to implement this by tomorrow," Fenton said. "I have Reid's visitation schedule. Start linking after each person has visited to minimize risk. Then we're going set up a chat in the hospital with Jameson on Wednesday with the entire team in one of those sound-proof rooms."

She then turned to Greenaway.

"Reassign any detective who hasn't been active here for more than five years. Draft another memo that everyone needs to exercise an abundance of caution. We are on dangerous footing with this."

"Understood," Greenaway said.

"I'd like to meet with Dr. Reid before the big team meetup," Spalding said. "It would explain Jameson's visit here and the exorbitant fee charged to his card."

"He was already smart," Fenton said. "The account was for a virtually untraceable Cayman account. I attribute it to paranoia from his divorce. You have my approval."

"Okay," she said.

Fenton put her hands on the table.

"You all have every right to be scared right now," she said. "We are in uncharted territory with a criminal mastermind more sick and devious than anyone we've ever faced. There is no shame in bowing out."

"I joined up to cross lines others couldn't," Bridges said. "I'm in until the end."

"I could never abandon someone like Dr. Reid," Spalding. "I'm staying."

"You couldn't threaten or pay me to stay away from this," Greenaway said.

"I founded this agency with you three ladies to fight injustices others couldn't," Fenton said. "I am not going to stop, regardless of how big the threat is."

"Go team," Bridges said lightly.

…

Everything was in a constant state of jumble. He couldn't think clearly. Voices kept telling him to do things he shouldn't. Nothing made any sense. The world was torture for Reid.

He entered Jameson's office and saw a woman was with him. She was dressed in black and had dark hair cut in a sharp bob that contrasted against her almost paper-white skin.

"Spencer," Jameson said. "This is Doctor Sophia Spalding. She's an outside therapist I'd like you to speak with to get a fresh take on how I should be treating you. Is that okay?"

The voices were telling him to punch her to see what color she bruised.

"Fine," he said.

"I'll leave you two alone," Jameson said and left.

Spalding sat in a chair next to him instead of behind the desk.

"Which do you prefer?" she asked. "Dr. Reid or Spencer?"

"Dr. Reid," he said.

"Okay, Dr. Reid," she said. "Are there any voices telling you to do bad things right now?"

"They want me to punch you to see what color you bruised," he said.

"My skin is an unusual shade of white," she said. "I was very close to being born albino but wasn't."

"It is estimated that there are fewer than two hundred thousand people in the US living with albinism," he said.

"One in seventeen thousand have it," she said.

Reid didn't know what to say. He felt overstimulated. There were so many thoughts constantly at war within him.

"Dr. Reid," she said. "May I touch you?"

"Yes," he said.

She took his hand and sandwiched it, between hers.

"Let out your pain, Dr. Reid," she said. "I won't judge."

He looked into her eyes. They were sharp as daggers, but they were beautiful.

"I wish I wasn't crazy," he said.

"No one is completely sane in this world, Dr. Reid," she said.

"I think you're stunning," he said.

Then, before he could stop himself, he used his other hand to punch her in the face.

Reid fell to the ground sobbing.

"Why do I keep doing things like this?" he screamed. "Why!?"

"I'm not judging you Dr. Reid," she said firmly. "I'm not."

"Go," he said without looking at her. "Go please."

"Have a good day, Dr. Reid," she said. "I hope we meet again under better circumstances."

He didn't say anything in response.

…

Spalding sat in Greenaway's office with an icepack to her cheek.

"He's developed quite a left hook," she said.

"Why didn't you try to block it?" Greenaway asked. "Everyone on the mats is going to be asking about who managed to get a swipe at you in."

"It would have escalated a situation that needed de-escalation," she said.

"Find out anything useful for your troubles?"

"He's scared of his own mind," she said. "He has an awareness to what is going on that scares him."

"How does that help us?"

"It will help Jameson develop a treatment plan once we can get the drugs out of his system."

"Anything else on your mind?" Greenaway.

"Do you think the feds will let us throw a few extra kicks in when we take these psychos down?"

"We can only hope," Greenaway said. "I would."


	7. Chapter 7

I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter Seven:

Jameson took a deep breath and aimed. The gun was loud even with the headphones on. He was happy when he finished unloading his clip.

The bell rang, and the targets moved forward. He took off his headphones and Nadine appeared. She looked at his hits.

"Two to the torso, one just nicking the top of the head, and the rest are wide," she said. "Not terrible for you."

"In situations like this, I question how we're even related," Jameson said.

"You couldn't pay me to sit still and calculate meds all day," she said dismissively. "The point of today's fun was to get you familiar with the sound of a gun again. We haven't done this in three years."

"I missed it so dearly," he said.

"I have a really bad feeling about what you've got yourself mixed up in right now," she said. "I want you to be ready for whatever comes to ahead."

"Are any of these feelings backed up by facts?" he asked.

"My detective friend at FSB refused to discuss anything with me when I called. But I could pick up from cues in her voice that she was nervous."

"I'll be careful," he said as they began to walk out of the range.

"I don't want you to be careful Connor, I want you to be safe," she said.

"I know, run, hide and as a last resort, fight."

"You know what most Americans should know into today's climate of gun violence, but the thing you have to remember is: No heroics. No trying to save people. The best thing you can do get out of the firing range and seek help from trained professionals."

"Sis, if I had to choose between escaping and trying to protect a patient, I'll try to protect patient."

Nadine shook her head.

"I know I can't stop you from thinking that way. Its too rooted in you. Professionals like me are better equipped at handling gun violence."

"The majority of my patients are going to panic when they see SWAT," he said.

"Which is why the minute we have cleared the threats, medical will be there. We do modify our units to fit the needs of the population. If it is safe and you're in good condition, we may even let you help but that is a big 'maybe.'"

"Nadine," he said seriously. "Do you think I'm in real danger?"

"I don't know Connor, and that is what scares me," she said.

"We'll see after Wednesday," he said.

"I'm sending my kids to Drake's aunt for the night and sitting on your apartment."

"Do you really think that is necessary?"

"Better safe than sorry," she said.

…

Jameson was relieved to see a houseful of BAU members and Morgan in the reception area outside his office. They were his last appointment. None of them looked certain about why they were there. Some appeared positively nervous.

"Hi," he said more confidently than he felt. "So, some of you already know me. I'm Dr. Connor Jameson. I'm in charge of Spencer Reid's care."

"You look oddly familiar," the blond he knew from the reports as J.J. said.

He laughed a little.

"You're good. Some people do see the resemblance. I think you met my twin a couple weeks ago while working a case in DC. Her name is Detective Nadine Jameson Mangan."

"Interesting," she said.

"Come on," he said. "There isn't enough space in my office for all of you so I'm taking you to a bigger room."

As they walked down the hall Prentiss asked:

"Is there a special reason why you wanted to meet with us all at once?"

"I want to get everyone on the same page together rather than having one-member relay everything to the others. I also wanted to get to know you all the way Spencer might."

Jameson opened a door, and everyone filed in. The room was filled with couches and chairs in muted colors.

"What's with the interrogation room in the back?" Morgan asked he sat down on couch

He shut the door.

"That's for observation," he said. "It isn't relevant."

He took a seat in front of all of them.

"Agents, I noticed a disturbing trend when I started treating Spencer. He had some sort of episode the night after a member, or former member visited. I found out that this has been occurring since Spencer was admitted here. The night doctor made an effort to have Spencer's visitors blocked to see how he'd manage and was met with threats of being fired from his position."

Jameson stared at each of them hard.

"I want what is best for my patients and I am always willing to go the extra mile. Things have not been adding up since I met Spencer. He is not responding to any of the medications, which is slightly unusual given the variety. I also watched each of you leave my office on the cameras. All of you looked on edge and answered a phone call afterwards. You are causing my patient distress. I needed to do something. I reached out to private detectives."

The team sat in stunned silence. A door opened, and four women appeared.

"Elle?" J.J. said.

"Elle Greenaway?" Prentiss said.

"I see my reputation only precedes me slightly," she said. "I'll lead introductions. I'm Elle Greenaway, formerly of the FBI."

"I'm Maria Bridges," another woman said. "I used to work for the DC police in Internal Affairs before the force turned against me the rest remains confidential."

"I'm Dr. Sophia Spalding," another woman said. "I have degree in psychology and worked for the CIA."

"And I'm Jackie Fenton. I worked for the NSA," another woman. "I'm the leader of the team at Fenton Spalding Bridges Private Investigation Services. Elle is our fourth-equal but silent partner."

"How much do you know?" Garcia asked fearfully.

"Enough to ask Dr. Jameson to go to the observation room and resist the urge to listen in," Fenton said.

"What!?" he said. "This is my office! I'm paying you."

"I know your sister," Bridges said. "She's going to kill me if anything happens to you. When I spoke with her I could tell she was plotting where to stash my body if a hair on your head were to be harmed."

"This is ridiculous," Jameson. "This is my patient and I came to you for help, yet you want to keep me in the dark."

"We wouldn't be doing it if we didn't think you'd be safer," Greenaway said.

"I'm also prepared to give you some of your money back," Fenton said.

"I left the newest the James Patterson novel in there for you," Spalding said.

"Really?" Jameson said irritably.

"Dr. Jameson," Prentiss said. "I think it is in your best interests that you not be present."

Jameson was furious.

"You've been hurting my patient!"

"There is a much bigger plan at play," Prentiss said. "I thought I was the only one being terrorized by this unsub, but clearly I was wrong. I promise we'll work with FSB to resolve this."

"I hope so," Jameson said.

He glared at all of them and went into the observation room.

Fenton watched the door close.

"I disconnected the wiring anyway," she said.

"You don't trust him," Rossi said.

"Nope," Fenton said. "I'd be pissed too. But you guys are in a lot of trouble that no average civilian should be privy to."

"Let's get started," Bridges said. "How are all of you being tortured into torturing Spencer?"

Author's Note:

Sorry if this isn't as interesting as other chapters. I don't like anything longer than fourteen hundred words and I think I might have surpassed that if I continued.


	8. Chapter 8

I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter Eight:

Bridges took notes.

"Garcia and Lewis were beaten and threatened. Prentiss, Rossi, Morgan, Simmons, and J.J had family members beaten and threatened. And Alvez, your dog was injured with the threat of further violence. All of you received footage of Hotch living with his son. You were all left with instructions for how to torture Reid into thinking he has schizophrenia."

She looked up. There wasn't a dry eye among the group as each poured out their sadness and guilt about what they endured. It had been a draining experience.

"This is nuts," Bridges said.

"I agree," Greenaway said. "The amount of planning involved is enormous."

"Let's discuss motivation," Fenton said. "Who is the target? Reid, torturing you guys, or both?"

"If it is Reid, there are moles in the hospital," Greenaway said. "They have to be watching to take pleasure in his misery."

"We'll work on sniffing them out," Fenton said. "Spalding suggested something about crowdsourced crime."

"I read that article too," Lewis said. "The implications are terrifying."

"I think what is more disturbing is why you were chosen," Spalding said. "We find out why you were chosen, and we find who did this."

"Do you have the man-power to help us?" Rossi asked.

"That was my next concern," Fenton said. "Do you have any other former teammates up for some side work?"

"Alex Blake," Lewis said. "She's been guest lecturing at Quantico."

Fenton sighed.

"Jameson isn't getting his money back anytime soon."

"Speaking of time," J.J. said. "Do any of you know how long we can keep dosing Spence with drugs before the damage is permanent?"

"Long-term damage has never been studied like this," Spalding said.

Morgan looked to Greenaway.

"I swear Elle, if my boy's wrist hadn't been broken and I had received photos where he threatened to do what Bufford did to me, I wouldn't be doing to this to my little brother."

"I know Morgan," Greenaway said. "This is just a rotten situation."

"Your overlords are probably wondering why they can't hear what we've been discussing," Fenton said and opened a folder. "This is the explanation and some psychobabble we think Jameson would have shared with you. Memorize it and give it back to us."

Rossi read it and looked up.

"Will Reid ever forgive us for what we did? I had to choose between my daughter being sexually assaulted and my grandson getting hurt, and I chose to torture Reid in one of the worst ways imaginable."

"I wouldn't," J.J. said tearfully.

"We'll come up with a plan," Bridges said and pulled out some cream and a packet of tissues. "We don't know whose watching what. Dry your eyes, think happy thoughts, compartmentalize, and apply this cream to reduce swelling."

The tube was passed around.

"No offense," Simmons said. "But are you sure you aren't out of your depth?"

"What we have on our side is our lack of respect for rules," Fenton said. "The less you know about our methods the better."

"When are we going to meet again?" Prentiss asked.

"We're going to send a detective with a highly coded communication device to the BAU next week Thursday," Fenton said.

"Can I fetch Jameson?" Spalding asked.

"Any other question or concerns that can be addressed quickly?" she asked.

Everyone shook their heads.

"Get him," Fenton said.

A minute later Jameson appeared.

"I know that smell," he said. "My sister used the same cream to hide the bags under her eyes during when she was being investigated by IA when I came home with my family for a vacation."

Bridges made a face.

"Your sister said you had no investigative instincts."

"I have my moments," he said and held up the book. "This isn't half-bad."

"Good," Spalding said.

"Why don't you show them out?" Fenton said.

"Okay," he said. "Your wish is my command."

Once Morgan and every member of the BAU left, the four detectives stared at each other.

"How screwed are we?" Bridges asked.

"As soon as we leave, I'm making calls," Fenton said. "I'm pulling friends out of retirement. I'm not asking any of you to, but I won't turn them down."

"I know a few who might think this is fun," Bridges said.

"I'll see who I know from the previous agency I worked for," Greenaway said.

"I'll check my contacts too and see who can work remotely," Spalding said.

"I still have a business to run," Fenton said. "Greenaway, I want you to run point on this with updates twice daily even if it is nothing."

"Can we get some extra unmarked security for Jameson?" Bridges asked. "It would help me sleep better at night for my conscience and knowing what his sister capable of if he were to get hurt."

"Done," Fenton said. "Also, to cover our billing trail, no one in this room is getting overtime pay until this is over."

"I'm not complaining," Greenaway said.

"Alright," Fenton said. "We reconvene early tomorrow morning. Think. I want theories and fresh ideas for everything from why to logistics of how this is being orchestrated. Let us leave in the directions we planned on using earlier."

Fenton left first followed five minutes later by Bridges.

Spalding looked to Greenaway.

"You want to see him, don't you?"

"Yeah," she said. "Are you going stop me?"

"I'm going to help you," she said.

…

During the after-dinner recreation time Reid sat in his usual spot in front of a chess set in the corner. Sometimes he played himself. Other times he played someone else and let them win quickly so they would leave him alone. Most of the time he sat in isolation with his thoughts.

"Can I play?"

None other than Dr. Spalding appeared. She was wearing a black blazer and skirt combination.

"Are you real?" he asked.

Spalding opened her purse and pulled out a wipe. She applied it to her cheek. The outline of a bruise appeared.

"Delusions usually appear in the same constant form," she said. "So, can I play?"

"Sure," he said.

She took a seat.

"Your move," she said after moving a pawn.

He moved one also.

"Pawn comes from the French word 'paon' which originates from the Medieval Latin term for foot soldier," she said. "The pawn is the soul of chess. ... the Pawns. They are the very Life of the Game. They alone form the Attack and the Defense; on their good or bad Situation depends the Gain or Loss of the Party"

"François-André Danican Philidor," he said. "You like chess?"

She examined a pawn. "I relate to pawns," she said. "In the game of life, you can only move forward. Others seek to manipulate you and use you as means to an end. Do you ever feel like a pawn Dr. Reid?"

"I feel like a charity case for my team," he said. "They come try to perk me up, ask intelligent questions about my treatment, and then get to leave. I feel like an animal in a zoo."

"You're not a charity case, zoo animal or pawn," she said. "You are person with rights. I promise that one day the only game being played will be the one of your choosing."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I think with the right treatment, you won't be beholden to so many doctors or medications," she said as she played. "Only yourself."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked.

"Faith in myself and faith in you Dr. Reid," she said as she made another move. "A little faith in who you are will go a long way."

"But I don't know who I am," he said.

"Put faith in who Jameson tells you who to be," she said. "I'll also be around."

She finished playing. Spalding handily beat him he had actually been trying to win for the first time in ages.

"We'll play again another time," she said. "Have a good day."

"Bye," he said.

Reid looked at the board. If hadn't seen and felt the pieces move, he might not have been convinced Spalding was real.

…

Spalding called Greenaway when she was in the car.

"Thank you," Greenaway said. "It was good to see his face alert."

She had put her phone in her upper blazer pocket with the camera facing outwards for Greenaway to watch them play.

"Your welcome," she said simply.


	9. Chapter 9

I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter Nine:

"South Africa?" Greenaway said dubiously.

"Johannesburg to be exact," Janine Jordan said excitedly. "Every single transmission from their phones to the camera feeds all route to a wealthy neighborhood in Johannesburg."

"So, is a person in South Africa monitoring all this?" Bridges asked.

"Not exactly," Jordan said quickly. "Some has routed all the transmission to the exact point after bouncing it twelve other places. Who ever is monitoring this is using an entirely different system. Like putting um, um a radio to another radio on a different frequency that can't be traced."

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Bridges said. "It's Tuesday, I haven't slept properly since this case began, and all we have is a dead end in South Africa."

"You should try drinking more coffee to help," Jordan said rapidly.

Bridges stared daggers at her.

"Okay," Greenaway said. "Jordan you've been at this nonstop since you landed on Thursday. Take the afternoon off and we'll see you tomorrow."

"I know we're hunting a really bad person or group, but this kind of elaborate network of listening and routing software is like nothing I've seen before. It has been a pleasure to help."

Bridges looked like she wanted to say something, but Greenaway cut in.

"Thank you," she said.

Bridges watched her leave.

"Where did Fenton find her?" she asked after she left.

"Where she found the rest of her highly caffeinated techies," she said with a shrug.

Greenaway turned to Spalding who hadn't said anything during the meeting. She was reviewing something on her tablet.

"You were awfully quiet," Greenaway said.

"Do we have all of our own bugs in the agent's homes, electronics, and at the hospital?" she asked.

"Yes," she said. "We basically have a call center monitoring them."

"What's on your mind?" Bridges asked.

"The end game," Spalding said. "What is our unsub getting out of watching Reid for months on end act out? The pattern of violence and delusions has already repeated itself. What is the point?"

"Someone is getting off on Reid suffer," Greenaway said.

Spalding put her tablet down.

"We need to do something to shake up the status quo," she said. "It's been said that the best defense is a good offense."

"It sounds like an affirmation, not a strategy," Bridges said.

"What do you have in mind?" Greenaway asked.

"Something you're not going to like," she said.

…

"I one-hundred-percent hate this plan!" Greenaway yelled.

"It is the only plan we have," Spalding said calmly.

"I'm not crazy about it, but I'm not sure we have a better option," Bridges said.

"Anything is better than this plan," Greenaway snapped.

"Enough," Fenton said and turned to Spalding. "Walk me through your logic."

"Whoever is orchestrating this is deviously creative," Spalding said. "When creative people are excited, ideas flow quickly and sometimes, they mess up. An example would be a writer engrossed in a story omits and misspells simple words. We do this, and we will get a reaction that we can trace."

"I really hate this," Greenaway said.

"I can't say I'm comfortable with this either," Fenton said. "The problem is, the clock is ticking. We don't know how much damage these drugs are doing to Reid as they continue to dose him. We don't know how long before this unsub figures out we're onto him. We need results. We need to go with this plan."

"Jackie!" Greenaway screamed.

"Elle, with me," Fenton ordered.

Greenaway followed Fenton outside.

"Before you say anything, I'd still be dead-set against it if Reid wasn't a former coworker of mine."

"I know," she said. "This sickens me a little too."

"Then why are you authorizing it?" she demanded.

"Because, it is my job to make the hard decisions no one else can," she said. "Elle, if we catch the guy because of this plan, it will be worth it."

"I hope you're right," Greenaway said.

"Let's get back to work," Fenton said, and they walked back in.

"So, how hard is it to get these drugs?" she asked Spalding.

"I can pick them up at our usual pharmacy right now. Rossi is going to visit tomorrow. He usually crushes the pills in the morning. We can sneak them in the house tonight."

"And your certain you'll get the reaction even with the drugs Jameson is prescribing?"

"They are such low dosages, nothing will impact the reaction," she said.

"Then do it," Fenton said. "I trust you the most to swap the drugs out. In the meantime, I want to do a test run tonight of what we expect will happen tomorrow in terms of catching a flaw in our unsub's transmissions and watching for reactions among the hospital staff."

"Okay," Spalding said and left.

"That woman scares me," Greenaway said.

"Has anyone gotten a straight answer out of her as to what she did for the CIA?" Bridges asked.

"Assassin seems highly likely," Greenaway said darkly.

"Enough with the gossip," Fenton said. "We have work to do. Let's do it."

"One other thing," Bridges said. "I want to head off Jameson after he gets the call from the hospital. He might actually flip a lid."

"Fine," she said.

"He wouldn't be the first," Greenaway said.

…

Reid played with the puzzle box Rossi gave him for a long time. It was relaxing to get his fingers in all the nooks and crevices that seemed to have some dust in them from lack of use. Maybe for once he'd get some peaceful sleep after the focusing on something for so long.

Casablanca was playing for movie night in the rec room before bedtime. Reid tried to pay attention, but intrusive thoughts kept getting in the way. They suddenly reached a crescendo and Reid had a new thought.

He screamed at the top of his lungs as he ripped his clothes off. It felt like everything that touched his skin was on fire. He had to get it off. He had to get it all off now.

Not caring in his frenzied state, what he looked like, he ran through the halls wearing nothing. He was afraid of cloth touching him because cloth was going to hurt. He was going to be on fire if clothing touched him again.

Reid evaded nurses and orderlies alike. He found an emergency exit and ran to the roof as alarms went off. He knew the access was locked, but he felt safe here. He felt safe in an empty space where no one could force him to wear anything.

Author's Note:

I know. This ranks high on my list of awful things I've done to this character in my stories.


	10. Chapter 10

I know it is hard for people to find time to review, but I really appreciate them. They are like guideposts for writers on FF. So, if you get the chance, please consider dropping a word or two (that isn't a flame).

Chapter Ten:

It was around two o'clock in the morning when Wick and Jameson met at a twenty-four-hour diner in a blue-collar district in DC.

"This better be good Jameson," Wick said as he sipped his coffee.

"There is a reason I asked you to put your phone in my glovebox with mine. It is a signal-blocking case installed by a friend of my sister's."

"Okay," Wick said. "Does her friend anything else up her sleeve to help Spencer?"

"She's part of a private investigation team I hired," he said. "I was told Reid would have an adverse reaction to a drug to draw a perp out into the open."

"Someone is dosing Spencer into thinking he has schizophrenia," Wick said. "This is disturbing."

"So, disturbing I am being left out of the loop about most of the investigation I am funding for my own safety."

"No kidding," Wick said taking another sip of his coffee. "So, what do you need me to do?"

"Do not make a big stink about it. I'm going to draw up a recommendation to stop the team from visiting because it would look suspicious if I didn't."

"Okay," he said. "I hope you know what you're doing for Spencer's sake."

"I do too," Jameson said. "I do too."

…

"You're lucky we got a lead out of this," Greenaway said. "Extremely lucky."

"Show me," Spalding said following her.

In their computer center there was half a dozen techs working. They approached Jordan who had an enormous cup of coffee.

"Someone made a viral video of Spencer for the dark web," she said excitedly. "We're tracing every view and the weeding down the views and comments."

"I can't even watch it," Greenaway said.

"Who recorded it?"

"A night janitor," she said. "Curtis Wright."

"Fenton is going with Bridges to interview him as we speak," Greenaway said.

"Any other leads?" Spalding asked.

"Montana," Jordan said. "Only one view of the video, but we trace it around the globe before finding the landing in a remote area in Glacier National Park."

"Bridges likes hiking," Greenaway said. "She's inviting Alex Blake to join the fun."

"Okay," Spalding said. "Let's see how this plays out."

…

"Ready?" Bridges asked as they walked up with their equipment.

"If my techie friends knew what I did now for my job," Fenton said.

Bridges tested the door. It opened.

"You owe me lunch," she said as they entered.

With their guns raised and masks on, they cleared each room. Fenton found the cameras and rewired them. Bridges found his phone in the kitchen and placed a transmitter in it. Curtis Wright was asleep in the family room with porn on.

Bridges slapped him awake while Fenton aimed her gun at him.

"Didn't you see enough action at your job?" she said.

"Who are you?" he said as he bolted awake.

"Who hired to you record that video?" Fenton asked.

"Someone pays me all cash to record footage," he said. "He always wears a mask."

"How'd he find you?" Bridges asked.

"He approached me after work one night in the shadows."

Fenton glanced at Bridges. They nodded in agreement.

"We're done," Bridges said. "Tell your boss about us and we'll come back and finish you."

"Really?" he said with a smirk.

"You have a niece whose birthday is this Sunday," Fenton said. "She's getting a bouncy house with a water slide. You wouldn't want someone to tamper with it, so she breaks her neck, would you?"

"You wouldn't," he said with a tremor in his voice.

"How about that kid you rarely see because the mother is married to another man and the man doesn't know the kid isn't his? Would like us to tell him about that and have him finish you off?"

"Okay, okay," he said. "You win. I won't tell anyone."

"Have nice day, Curtis," Bridges said as they walked away.

Fenton fixed the camera wiring on their way out.

"See," Bridges said as she pulled off her mask. "You wouldn't make a bad bad-cop."

"Looking forward to Montana?" Fenton asked.

"I hear it's beautiful this time of year," Bridges said. "I hope Alex Blake up for a hike."

"I have a friend up there who can help," she said.

"How do you friends everywhere?" Bridges asked.

"The joys of working remotely," Fenton said.

Bridges sighed.

"I had a feeling that guy would be a dead end."

"We'll see what you find in Montana and whether the little present we left behind yields anything."

…

Deep below the surface of Quantico, the team sat without their cellphones in a soundproof room. The tension couldn't be higher. They stared at the single message from what resembled a clunky old cellphone:

"Our trap was successful. Expect further contact Monday morning."

J.J. looked to Prentiss.

"What do we do?" she asked fearfully.

"Business as usual," Prentiss said.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can do this to Reid," Rossi said.

"We just need to hold out for a little longer," Prentiss said. "They haven't been at it long they have already produced results."

"But we don't know what success equals in their minds," Lewis said.

"We'll learn soon enough," Prentiss said. "This our only chance at saving Reid and we can't lose faith now."

"Okay," Simmons said. "Let's hope we'll get a less ominous note."

"I agree," Garcia said. "I'm hate the idea that Reid might have been bait in the trap."

"Don't go there Garcia," Prentiss said. "Think positive. Of anyone I know, you're the best at it."

"I'll try."

"We all need to think positive or we'll go mad and that is what the unsub wants," Prentiss said. "He can't win."

"He won't," J.J. said.

"No," Rossi said.

"Never," Lewis said.

"He will fail," Simmons said.

"We won't let him succeed," Alvez said.

"That's a promise," Garcia said.

"Let's get back to work," Prentiss said. "We have people to save while others try to save Reid."

…

Reid spent most of the day in restraints in a hospital bed staring at the ceiling. He refused to let himself think of the past. He didn't want to think about the future. He didn't want to exist.

"Hello Dr. Reid."

He turned his head to see Spalding wearing a stylish black tunic over black pants.

"You know about what happened," he said as a fact.

She leaned over the railing and stared out the window.

"Did you know that in medieval times they tried to make pawns sound more interesting?" she said. "The Doctor was always the Queen's pawn. A city guard in front of a knight."

"I did know that," he said dully.

"A weaver in front of a bishop," she said. "The bishop is an interesting piece. There can be a good bishop and a bad bishop. It all about how the pieces are arranged."

"What does chess have to do with anything?" he asked angrily.

"There are many different ways to play chess," she said. "When a pawn reaches the end of the board it can be as powerful as any other piece except the king. When your journey is over here Dr. Reid, no one will be more powerful than the doctor who helps you regain the stability you need."

"Is my time a game here?" he asked staring at her.

"To someone it is," she said. "Chess can be very difficult game, and someone is very good at it. But so am I and I play without mercy."

"What is going on?" he asked.

"You're the doctor the Dr. Reid," she said stroking his face gently. "And I am the queen."

She left as quietly as she came. If she hadn't touched him, he wouldn't have believed she was real. For the first time in months he felt something like hope even as thousands of questions popped up. Pawns don't win chess games, but maybe he wasn't going to be a pawn much longer with Spalding in the game.


	11. Chapter 11

I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter Eleven:

"Alex Blake?" Bridges said as she entered Dulles airport early Thursday evening.

"Guilty as charged," she said with a smile.

Blake had a full pack of camping gear like Bridges. She was also dressed in casual layers with her hair tied back.

"You look ready to hike," Bridges said.

"So, do you," Blake said noting her gear.

"It should be fun," Bridges said at they entered the security checkpoint.

"I've hiked before, but nothing like this," Blake said.

"I've hiked Yellowstone, I have heard Glacier is stunning."

"So, have, I," she said.

Once Blake and Bridges found their boarding gate, Blake pulled out a notebook and angled it away from a camera.

"Do you like this sketch?" she asked.

It was a note that said:

 _Is there a place where we can talk openly?_

Bridges shook her head.

"You're good, but it's just not my style."

"I see," Blake said.

They sat in companionable silence as the weight of their mission and unanswered questions weighed heavily on them.

…

A woman in her mid-fifties with her faded gray hair tied back in a bun appeared holding a notebook with their names on it when they arrived at the airport.

"I'm Izzy Corbin," she said. "Let's get your stuff in the car."

Blake and Bridges followed out to her Ford Focus.

"Don't let her looks fool you," she said once they were in with Blake in the back seat. "She is fully sound-proof and signal-proof. We can talk freely here."

"Okay," Blake said. "What is going on with Spencer Reid and what am I doing out here?"

"Reid is being poisoned into thinking he has schizophrenia by members of his team who are being blackmailed and had family members threatened with abuse," Bridges said.

Blake stared her. "Seriously?"

"The lead doctor grew suspicious of the diagnosis and contacted my services. The team recommended you as an option for assistance as we pursue leads."

"Of course, you have my help, like I said in that encrypted email," Blake said. "So, what are we doing out here?"

"According to what Fenton sent in her message," Corbin said. "This person has had video of Spencer bounced around the globe. I redirected a satellite over it and found a large light signature where there shouldn't be one in the park."

Bridges stared at her. "How exactly do you know Fenton?"

"I retired from the NSA with a full pension. As one of the first women to work there, I kept my head down, worked hard, and knew when I could break the rules without being noticed."

"Why Montana?" Blake asked.

"I met a man, ended up dumping the man, and fell in love with the land," she said. "You'd be amazed at what you can do now remotely."

"A nice view is far better than any man," Bridges said.

"So how far away is this place?" Blake asked.

"Get to bed as soon as we get to my place and if you get up early, we should be there by Sunday afternoon."

"You up for all that hiking?" Bridges asked.

"Yes," Blake said. "Some place that remote though, I'm worried about traps."

"That's why I'm here," Corbin said. "I've packed every weapon we could ever need."

"What if something goes south?" Blake said.

"Then we get the park rangers," she said. "I've got radio set up too."

"We're going to be fine Blake," Bridges said.

"I hope so," she said looking out the window. They were already driving by nothing but wilderness.

…

"A game is being played," Reid muttered. "A game I don't know the rules to. How do I win a game I don't know the rules to?"

"Life is not a game, Spencer," Jameson said.

"It is here," he said. "There are other players. Other nameless players. I don't know how to win against an unknown player. I don't know anything."

"Spencer," he said slowly. "No game is being played here. I promise."

"I'm the doctor in chess and Spalding is my queen. I'll help Spalding win, even if I lose."

"Okay, Spencer," Jameson said. "I think we're going to keep the meds where they are for now and see how you are Monday."

"Everything is a game," he muttered as he left.

Jameson dialed Fenton Spalding Bridges.

"Hi," he said. "This is Connor Jameson. Put me through to Sophia Spalding now."

Two minutes later, Spalding came on the line.

"How can I help you Dr. Jameson?"

"You've seen my patient with my knowledge or consent," he stated.

"Your patient is not getting the treatment he needs because a group of psychopaths are controlling the environment. I am a psychologist and I provided the insight he needed to maintain some semblance of sanity."

"He thinks this is a game, how is that a form of sanity?" Jameson asked furiously.

"Because this is a game of cat and mouse with a group of evil individuals. Knowing that some of his episodes aren't entirely his fault lightens the burden. It makes him less lonely."

"Why didn't you consult me on this?"

"I knew you wouldn't approve," she said. "I'm glad you called though. I have been planning contingencies and you need to be ready. Consult with the treatment team and spend Sunday there and take a weekday off."

"Are you going to tell me why?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I'll be touch later. Goodbye."

Jameson hung up feeling as though he had more questions than answers.

…

"How are you feeling Blake?" Bridges asked.

"Like I never want to hike again," she moaned.

"We're almost there," Corbin said.

"Wait," Blake said. "This is the edge of a cliff."

"Which is why I brought climbing gear," Corbin said.

Blake cautiously peered over the edge. She could see a cabin in the distance next to a creek.

"I'll keep watch from here," Corbin said. "You two will go down."

"Okay," Bridges said. "You aren't by any chance afraid of heights, are you?"

"What I'm afraid of is how loud I'll scream if we find nothing down there and end up alerting a grizzly," Blake said.

"You're funny," Bridges said.

"If you don't start climbing back after an hour, I'll call the rangers," Corbin said. "So, keep an eye on the time and watch for traps like I instructed."

"Got it," Bridges said.

"Let's go," Blake said.

They carefully climbed down the mountain. Mindful of traps of all kinds, they slowly walked to the cabin. With their hands on their guns, Bridges knocked.

The door slowly opened and a man on crutches appeared. He appeared to be in his early sixties with his gray hair neatly trimmed. The man smiled.

"You ladies lost?" he asked in a charming tone.

"No," Bridges said. "We're looking for you. I'm Samantha Groves and I work for the government with Miss Alice Jane. We found your light signature on a map and have come to investigate."

"Interesting," he said. "I wonder if this will clear things up."

He turned around and pulled out a revolver. Blake and Bridges already had their guns out. Bridges blasted his head off. They quickly stepped over the body entered the main area of the cabin.

"This is the smoking gun," Bridges said taking photos with her camera.

There was detailed photos and written descriptions of every team member along with family, in addition to Morgan and Hotch, lining the walls. In the center was a set of three computers. One was watching Reid's room in the hospital, the other monitored the activities of the team.

"Okay," Blake said. "We knew they were watching. Who was that guy and why is he doing this?"

Bridges pulled up a pillow revealing a paper journal. She tossed it to her. Blake read out loud:

"The FBI is the scum of the earth. They think they can get away with anything, including the murder of US citizens. We will not tolerate it anymore. We will get justice for the dead and wrongfully imprisoned. We are the Patriots of the New Revolution. They have used torture against us for too long. It is time to turn the tables and show them what real torture is. We are the future of America and we will destroy the feds."

Blake shut it.

"I'm taking this with me," she said.

"And I'm cracking the hard drive," Bridges said as she pulled out a USB device.

She plugged it into the computer and suddenly screamed.

Bridges was air-born two feet away from Blake. She rushed to the woman's side. Maria Bridges was already dead.

Fearing more traps, Blake ran out of the cabin while holding the journal. There were more explosions as she ran. Her heart ached over the fate of Bridges. She vowed to keep fighting on for her.

"ALEX!"

Blake looked up head and followed the sound. There was rope at the base. She shakily clipped on and was hoisted up.

"Maria is dead," Blake said.

"I called the rangers," Corbin said. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said impatiently. "We need to call a code ignis."

Corbin sent the message.


	12. Chapter 12

I hope you enjoy this. I look forward to seeing guideposts!

Chapter Twelve:

Jameson was catching up on paperwork when there was a knocking on his door as his secretary wasn't in.

"Dr. Jameson," a woman in a sharp suit accompanied by Spalding dressed casually in all black appeared. "I'm Agent Amy Dustin with the FBI. We have reason to believe Spencer Reid is in danger and need to have him transferred to a more secure location."

Jameson wasn't sure what was going on.

"It's okay Dr. Jameson," Spalding said. "The FBI have asked for my assistance."

"We need to move quickly," Dustin said. "Spencer Reid's life is in grave danger."

"Okay," he said. "I'll get the paperwork ready."

"I already have the paperwork in the reception area," Spalding said.

"It is important that we move quickly," Dustin said.

"For the record I don't approve of my patient's information being printed without my knowledge."

"Noted," Spalding said.

Jameson signed where he needed to sign and gave it to Dustin.

"Pack only the necessities and a few sets of clothing. Dr. Spalding will take you down to the vehicle waiting for him."

Dustin disappeared and Jameson lead Spalding to where Reid was.

"Spencer," he said knocking before using his card to enter.

Reid was sitting at his desk reading.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We're relocating you," Spalding said. "A threat has arisen and you're in danger here."

"What kind of danger?" he asked looking alarmed.

"Nothing I can't handle," she said.

Jameson began to pack Reid's things.

"We need to move quickly," he said.

Reid helped and within a few minutes they were done. Spalding pulled out a gun.

"Let's move," she said.

Jameson disabled the alarms with his key and they took the emergency exit down four floors.

Clearing corners, Spalding guided them to a waiting modified jeep. Greenaway was behind the wheel.

"I need you to go with him," Spalding said to Jameson. "We don't have medical on site."

"Was that even an agent?" Jameson asked.

"I bribed her into helping," Spalding said.

"We need to get going," Greenaway said.

"Am I going to be on the run for the rest of my life?" Jameson asked.

"No," Spalding said. "Bridges, your sister's friend is dead. They're onto us. We need to get moving and go after these operatives."

The sound of gunshots could be heard. Spalding pushed Reid and Jameson into the car. Greenaway sped off.

Reid whimpered in terror.

"Just try to keep him calm," Spalding said to Jameson.

Jameson held on to Reid as they could hear more gun shots. They tumbled around slightly as Greenaway drove as fast as possible. It was a terrifying experience for both.

A bullet smashed the back window and Jameson screamed. Spalding stood and pulled something behind the seat. It was a pair of machine pistols. Greenaway opened the sunroof and Spalding fired.

The noise was deafening. At some point Jameson wasn't sure who comforting who as the Jameson held on to Reid. Spalding calmly exchanged fire. It may have only been five minutes, but it felt like hours.

The vehicle jolted violently as it jumped the curb. Spalding bent down and pulled out a much larger gun. Jameson had only seen them up close in pictures with his brother-in-law standing next to one.

"Is that a rocket launcher?" he asked.

"It's going to be loud," she said.

Jameson felt like he was at the center of an earthquake. He was fairly certain Reid was comforting him now. It was nothing like anything he had ever experienced.

The car jolted again, and Greenaway spun the car around.

"Get out!" she screamed.

Spalding practically dragged Reid and Jameson out into what turned out to be the center of a golf course. There was a helicopter waiting in front of them.

"Elle!" Spalding screamed. "We never decided who!"

"You!" she said.

"I don't know him!"

"You relate better to him."

Jameson looked between them.

"I want the shrink," he said.

"There's your answer," she said.

Spalding guided them into the helicopter and helped them fasten their seatbelts. They put on headphones and sat back, exhausted.

"I take it you had trouble getting here," the pilot said.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Spalding said calmly.

Jameson thought he might throw up as he wondered what else Spalding was capable of.


	13. Chapter 13

I hope you enjoy this! I could always use more guideposts.

Chapter Thirteen:

Two hours later, Greenaway entered house with a "condemned" sign on it. Fenton was working from a makeshift office in the kitchen.

"Nice place," Greenaway said. "To bad we had to scuttle that prime real estate."

"That's what insurance is for," she said. "Did you run into any trouble getting them to the meetup location?"

"Spalding had to use the rocket launcher," she said.

"I hope she didn't need to use both," Fenton said. "Those things are expensive."

"The variety of her skill set scares me," Greenaway said.

"Spalding did many different things for the CIA before they finally asked her to do something she refused to do. I found her living in Bangkok where she helped me out of trouble and I helped her get her identity back after the agency black-balled her."

"I bet that story has a very long unabridged version," Greenaway said.

"It does but you won't ever hear it from me," she said. "Now back to business: Lets see what the techs have."

Fenton led her down to the basement where five techs were working feverishly. Jordan appeared with her usual enormous cup of coffee.

"Let me show you what we've found," she said excitedly

In the back there was a whiteboard of data.

"So, Patriots of the New Revolution is a fairly common name for extremist groups. What makes them different is their user names on the Dark Web are places and dates. We've been working through the information and we've identified three people so far."

Jordan pointed to the pictures of two men and one woman.

"Bunker Hill Seventeen Seventy-five is Mathew Bridwell and he works in prison surveillance where three of the BAU serial killers are being held including the infamous Cat Adams. Valley Forge Seventeen Seventy-seven is Donald Gerado who works in security alarm systems in California whose clients include four families with relatives incarcerated as a result of the BAU. Yorktown Seventeen Eighty-one Eliza Barret, the vice president of a New York City-based prison architecture firm whose step brother was a Boston-based serial killer the BAU apprehended."

Greenaway stared at them.

"These people are recruiting unsubs and their families to contribute to the cause of making the BAU miserable," she said. "Spalding was right about the crowdsourcing angle."

"What about the mastermind?" Fenton asked. "Are you any closer to finding him? I doubt the guy in Montana was him."

"We believe his name is Popes Creek Seventeen Thirty-Two," Jordan said. "The Birthplace and year of George Washington."

"This is guy has to be caught," Greenaway said. "Why don't we go on the offensive and have the BAU post something to the Dark Web?"

"They're currently working on a case Nashville with Garcia onsite, where I sent Blake to debrief the team," Fenton said. "Do you think this is the best move?"

"Do you really want my opinion?" Greenaway asked.

"You're a profiler, I'm not."

"I think we need to let this guy know he's not in charge anymore," Greenaway said. "I also want the Morgan family relocated along with J.J.'s and Hotch's as precautions."

"I'll get the equipment to the team," Fenton said. "Next, I want to start dismembering his network. I'll reach out on my PI network to get every member taken down."

"Do I want to know what you mean by that?" Greenaway asked.

"Not unless you want to face the possibility of sharing a cell with me."

…

Prentiss was attaching another name to their victims board as the rest of the team ate in miserable silence. Everyone was off their game. Since Thursday, everyone had received some sort of violent message on their phones along with a picture of Hotch with his son. No one had gotten much sleep. They all felt drained and helpless.

"Hey guys."

None other than Alex Blake appeared. Her eyes were red-rimmed and there were cuts on her forehead. Dressed in slightly muddy hiking gear and wearing a newer backpack, she was holding a sign next to a box.

" _Phones in the box."_

Without hesitating, everyone put their phones in the box and Blake shut the lid.

"I was in Montana," she said. "We killed the inhabitant. One of the PIs, Maria Bridges died, when she tried to plug in a USB device. She recovered a journal before she died."

Blake handed it to Prentiss.

Prentiss scanned it. It was essentially a smoking gun. The team was chosen because Reid's arrest put them in the spotlight. The fact that his name was cleared didn't make as many headlines. They were seen as monsters with limitless authority. This was the motivation for why they were being tortured and why they were torturing Reid.

She passed the notebook around and the realization hit each member of the team. It was a mixture of horror and frustration. There was also a sense of relief as they finally had a reason behind the madness.

Blake put her hands on the table where the team was seated.

"Reid has been relocated by FSB. I got my marching orders from Fenton, I have the equipment and the codes for you guys to send a message to these terrorists. Whenever you're ready."

Prentiss looked at the team.

"We need to be firm and show no fear. This is our chance to say, 'we are not beholden to you anymore.' Keep it clear and concise."

"Got it," Alvez said.

Five minutes later the team was assembled in front of a camera. Prentiss started.

"To the Patriots of the New Revolution: We have been tortured by for too long in the shadows. We are here to inform you those days are over."

Rossi came next.

"You threatened my family. Reid is also my family. I am done with you threatening my family."

Lewis came forward.

"I am done being afraid. I am done hurting Reid. Soon you will be done."

Alvez stepped forward.

"You operate in the shadows because you are cowards. I am not a coward and I will not endure your abuse any longer."

Garcia nervously stepped forward.

"You've made my life horrible. I want it to end. I will end the agony and you will end too.

Simmons came next.

"I have not been on this team as long, but I am still part of this family too. I will protect it and I will fight to stop the misery."

J.J. was last.

"I never should have hurt Spencer. But you threatened my family and I felt helpless. I don't feel helpless anymore. You will pay for what you've done."

Prentiss appeared again.

"You call us all-powerful monsters. We'll show you what monsters really are, and we'll show you how we take them down."

With a little help from Garcia, Blake loaded the message to the Dark Web.

…

Miles away Fenton, Greenaway, Jordan, and techs watched the video.

"Jordan," Fenton said. "Add one word to the end: War."

"Done," Jordan said.

Fenton checked her phone. She smiled.

"It is on."


	14. Chapter 14

I hope you enjoy this. I look forward to seeing guideposts.

Chapter Fourteen:

Reid and Jameson slowly emerged from their bedrooms to the smell of breakfast being cooked.

"Good morning," Spalding said. "How are you two feeling?"

"Let's see," Jameson said. "After being chased by gunmen, and then forced to jump out of a helicopter to swim a mile to get to the house, and then sleeping in bed for about ten hours, I think I'm still in shock."

"That is perfectly natural," Spalding said. "How about you Dr. Reid?"

He shrugged.

"I'm okay."

She dished up plates of eggs and sausage.

"Eat up. It will make you feel better."

"How did you have clothes that fit me?" Jameson asked.

"This is our main safe house," she said. "We like to keep a variety of clothes here to meet any need."

"Can I have coffee?" Reid asked as he was poured orange juice.

"No," Jameson said. "Caffeine doesn't interact well with your meds."

"But I don't need meds because I don't have schizophrenia," Reid said. "The team has been dosing me with psychotropic drugs through the gifts they leave me."

James dropped his forkful of sausage.

"How could you possible know that?"

"I gathered clues from what Spalding said on Thursday about a game being played. I reviewed what I knew. My reaction was extreme that one night and I remembered what I thought was dust might have been powder in the puzzle box Rossi gave me. The team always looked stressed when they saw me, and I always attributed it to seeing me in a mental hospital. It occurred to me that something else might be at play. Given the recent even where guns were shot at me, I'd say I'm right. Now can I please have some coffee?"

"Very good, Dr. Reid," Spalding said. "I'd say he's earned a cup. What do you think Dr. Jameson?

Jameson sighed. "A small cup. We need to titrate you down from your meds."

"Can I have some sugar too?"

Spalding carefully poured a small amount into a cup and gave him the sugar. He took a sip and the largest smile Jameson had ever seen appeared across his face.

"Now to a little business," Spalding said. "We're going to probably be here about a week. Dr. Jameson, I called your sister and she knows you're safe. Dr. Reid, the team knows your safe with us.

The BAU and FSB have declared war on the Patriots of the New Revolution, the group responsible for the death of Maria Bridges when she came across one of their traps in Montana. This group picked the BAU because Dr. Reid's recent incarceration made headlines and they were looking to punish the FBI for perceived past wrongs. They have recruited people with connections to those who might have a grudge against the BAU to assist them. In response, the BAU posted a video the Dark Web where they promised retaliation.

I can't guarantee your safety at this safe house. Later today, we're going to review maps of where to go in the event we have to evacuate. If we're still here in a few days, Dr. Reid if you're up to it, I'd like to you do some target practice."

"What about me?" Jameson asked.

"Dr. Jameson, you are a man of many talents, but according to your sister, marksmanship is not one of them. We'll review what you can do to defend yourself in a couple days.

In the mean time I suggest you try to enjoy your time here. The views of the water are stunning, I've compiled a broad library of books, DVD, games and other ways to entertain yourselves that do not require an internet connection. There is a connection in my room that is only used for emergency purposes. Consider this a retreat from the world."

"I noticed you have some rare editions of books," Reid said. "I look forward to reading them."

Spalding smiled.

"How much supplies do you have to keep us here?" Jameson asked.

"About a month, but as I said. I don't expect us to be here that long."

"Okay," Jameson said and looked out at the views of the bay. "It could be worse."

"It could," Reid said. "We could be trapped at a mental hospital."

…

It turned out they were a good distance from civilization. The nearest town was an hour away. Spalding explained how to escape on land and by water. By the end of the hour, they were prepared to leave however necessary.

Jameson kept an eye on Reid as he read and chatted with Spalding. He looked more relaxed than he had ever seen him. It was as though Reid truly needed to escape.

Feeling slightly useless, he offered to cook dinner. Spaghetti wasn't hard to cook, and Spalding already had meatballs frozen. She pulled out wine and Jameson suggested Reid could have a little, but he declined.

"So," Spalding said. "Ask me anything and I'll answer honestly."

"Really?" Jameson asked.

"Really," she said.

"Why did you leave the CIA?" Reid asked.

"Are either of you familiar with the show _Burn Notice_?" she asked.

"Yes," Jameson said.

"No," Reid said.

"I was sent to work for a clandestine agency to monitor an eastern European teenager," she said. "She was exceptionally bright like you Dr. Reid. Her family had connections to weapon manufacturing plants where they wanted her to work one day. I thought my mission was to recruit her family, but it turns out it was to kill the girl. I refused and was forced to watch her be murdered. Two days later, I found myself in Bangkok with no usable identity. I was burned."

"I see," Reid said.

"I didn't think it happened in real life," Jameson said.

"It does," she said. "I was in Bangkok for six months until Jessie Fenton got into some trouble in the area and I helped her out. She helped me, and we became business partners."

"Quite a story," Jameson said.

"Any other questions?" she asked.

"How many people have you killed?" Reid asked.

"Too many," she said.

"I know how that feels," he said. "I hate killing, even to protect those I love."

"I hate it more when you start to enjoy it," she said. "When you kill who people who deserve it and there is a rush."

"So, are you a black belt in anything?" Jameson asked.

"I am an expert in a variety of forms of jujutsu, especially in Aikido," she said.

"Is there a gun you aren't good at using?" Jameson asked.

"No," she said. "Once you know the basics, it is about handling the weight and recoil."

"How many languages do you know?" Reid asked.

"I'm proficient in four," she said. "I am tourist-fluent in three others."

"Impressive," Jameson said.

"Thank you."

They ate the rest of the meal in companionable silence.

…

"So now you know what it's like to be cooped up all day," Nadine said the next day.

"Yeah and it isn't fun even with all things our host has set up," Jameson said. "Are you sure you're safe?"

"I'm fine," she said. "The kids are with my husband's family and I'm staying with a friend."

"So, what is going on out in the rest of the world?" he asked.

"It's crazier than usual and that is saying something," she said. "Suspicious shootings across the country. Suspicious building gas leaks all over the place. No is one prepared to say we're under attack by domestic terrorists, but it feels like it."

"So, I'm not missing much," he said lightly.

"Don't get any stupid ideas Doc," she said. "You're safe where you are. Stay there and enjoy the peace and quiet."

"Yes, sis," he said. "Bye."

"Bye."

Spalding appeared.

"Did you have a nice chat with your sister?" she asked.

"It sounds like the world is going insane," he said.

"That happens," she said. "There isn't much we can do about it."

"How much aren't you telling me and Spencer?"

"What I am not telling you will not get you killed. Ignorance may not be bliss, but it is safety."

"Okay," he said with a sigh.

"This place will grow on you, Dr. Jameson," she said. "I promise."

…

The world was finally starting to stop shaking by Wednesday. The intrusive thoughts were becoming fewer and less frequent. To Jameson this might have been a prison, but to Reid this was closest he felt to freedom in more than six months.

It was late at night when Reid felt thirsty. He went to the bathroom to get some water but found Spalding in it with the door slightly open. She was dying her hair black.

He knocked lightly.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," she said.

"Who else are you hiding from?" he asked. "You keep a perfectly maintained façade physically and emotionally that puts a distance between you and everyone you know."

She smiled at him.

"You are truly one of the best profilers in the BAU," she said. "Not many can see beyond the black and white. I come from a wealthy, abusive family that I entered the agency to get a new name and identity from."

"Does Fenton know?"

She nodded.

"What's your real name?" he asked as he approached her.

"It doesn't carry much power," she said. "Kind of like Tom Riddle in Harry Potter. Voldemort is more powerful to the point it became taboo."

"But I want to know," he said softly. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," she said as she put her hair in a cap.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Elaine Hotchner," she said. "Aaron is my first cousin."

Reid gasped. Spalding burst into tears.

"I couldn't stop the abuse, so I ran away. All I could do was run."

Reid hugged her. They held onto each other. After a couple minutes, Reid shifted around and kissed her. She kissed him back.

"Let me rinse out my hair," she said.

"I can't believe I'm falling for Hotch's cousin," he said breathlessly.

…

Two hours later, the house burst into a fireball of flames.


End file.
